


Dreams and Reality

by Boji



Category: The West Wing
Genre: M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, PWP without Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-14
Updated: 2005-04-14
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:10:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2349554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boji/pseuds/Boji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not the merry month of masturbation but Amber asked for banter and some naked boys and this is my reply to her challenge. You'll have to blame the boys for the lack of banter ;-)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams and Reality

Shifting restlessly against the crumpled cotton sheets Sam struggled up through drowsiness. Touch, warmth, words whispered in a voice rough with desire and shaky with love. He clutched futilely at the fragments of emotions as they slipped back into his half remembered dreams, chased away by the insistent beeping of the alarm clock. All he was left with, branded with, were the fingerprints of desire that taunted him. He was hard, aching hard against the hotel sheets that were damp with sweat and sticky from where his cock had leaked its desperation.

Groaning, Sam rolled onto his back and flung his arm over his eyes to block out the grey morning light. It was too early. Dawn was too early to be getting up to face the barrage of the day. Then again after the restless night he'd just had, Sam knew that midday would have been too early for a wake up call. Throbbing in time with the beeping alarm, his erection twitched against the sheets. Slapping the travel alarm clock into quiet submission, Sam reached down with his other hand and wrapped a warm and slightly sweaty palm around his over heated flesh. His groan was loud in the stillness of the room.

Biting his lip slightly in deference to thin hotel walls, he shifted and kicked the sheets off. The cool air was a nice contrast to the heat of his palm as started stroking with a slow steady rhythm. Beneath his fingertips Sam could feel the blood racing to his groin as his flesh hardened even more. Morning hard-ons had been a faint memory of late. Too many late nights and early mornings. Too many disasters waiting to crash down around him. Desire had faded away like childhood dreams and belief in heroes.

Dreams.

That was the problem.

His dreams were haunting him.

As the lack of sleep made him listless and caffeine addicted, as he jump-started himself with sugar, he found his mind wondering. He wondered if the ghostly lips that crushed against his at night would be firm or pliant in the light of day. He wondered if the hand that would reach down and encircle him would be wider than his, firmer, gentler, rougher. He wondered what it would feel like if fingers other than his own traced the puckered opening to his body. Reaching down Sam tickled the strip of flesh behind his balls. His breathing caught and boldly, curiously he thrust the tip of his index finger within his body's warm tight channel. Desire dripped slowly onto his stomach from his shuddering cock and he groaned in frustration. Sam knew he wanted something, something more than this. Something more than feverish fantasies and dreams of warmth and weight pushing him into the mattress. Dreams of trust and surrender, of questing tongues and hands clutching and kneading.

Needing.

His need was a physical presence these days, and not because a certain smile or a look was guaranteed to make him half hard. Licking his palm, Sam slid his cock back into his tightly clenched fist and struggled to bury his index finger more deeply within himself. The desire which had him writhing on the bed had little to do with need. It had little to do with the abstinence that had become his sex life. It had to do with sublimation and feelings he thought were long forgotten. It had to do with Josh.

The quiet was heavy with his breathing and loud with his half swallowed moans. Tracing a pulsating vein with a fingertip Sam shuddered, Josh's name spilling out into the room. The hoarse need-filled word masked the quiet thud of a key card as it hit the carpet. Blood raced heatedly through Sam's veins, and impossible dreams played out on the screen of his closed eyelids. It was no wonder, therefore, that he failed to hear the controlled click of the door as was pushed shut with shaking fingers.

Josh stood rooted to the spot.

Watching.

Barefoot and clad in a loosely belted white bathrobe, as the grey of another morning gave way suddenly to brilliant technicolour, he watched.

He watched as his best friend lay on the bed with his legs apart, slender fingers caressing full and heavy balls that were pulled up close against a blood filled cock. He watched Sam finger fuck himself. Or at least try to. Sam was lying in the wrong position, struggling for what was out of reach. Failing and yet teasing himself.

He watched Sam. Sam writhing in passion. Every upstroke he made with his fist, every pull on his large cock was beautiful. Josh stood silently watching. Sam was a work of art. The beautiful boy he had befriended all those years ago after a college football game was a stunningly handsome, sensual man. Watching him struggle and strain reaching for his orgasm was the most erotic thing Josh had ever seen.

Light headed Josh felt his own cock swell and rise, thrusting against the soft towelling robe, throbbing in sympathy. It reached forward, as his hands dared not.

A breathless word had shattered his existence. He hoped another would right it, finally.

"Sam." Josh breathed the word out, hardly knowing if it was a question or a benediction.

Blue eyes opened and stilled in shock as embarrassment crashed over Sam in place of the hot brush of desire.

"Oh God."

His finger slid out awkwardly, a jolt of pain racing up his spine. Close, he'd been so close.

"The shower in my room's bust." Josh hardly recognised his own voice, laced as it was with desire. "You're... I..." Words failed him.

"Josh?" It was a question. A question Sam couldn't help but ask as Josh's gaze travelled slowly across his naked torso.

Josh balled his right hand into a fist and tried not to think about touching Sam. Tried not to think about running his fingers through the sweat damp hair or wrapping his arms around the man who was looking up at his with impossibly blue eyes and holding  
him tight. Maybe forever.

"I want to watch."

"You want to watch?" Sam asked incredulously feeling his cock throb as Josh's gaze licked over it. Embarrassment warred with his lust.

"Can I?" Josh asked in a quiet, shaky voice.

The broken groan was Sam's as he twisted his face into the pillow, his hand reaching down almost inadvertently for his aching flesh. Lust won.

"Why?"

How did one tell a man he was beautiful? How could he tell his best friend that nothing in his life had ever been as erotic as this. Josh tried not to think about how their cocks would feel if they throbbed against each other and wondered how to tell Sam that he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"You... it's always been you, I think."

"What?"

"Sam you're, I... it's always been you. And anyway," Josh smiled gently, "You um, really need it."

"It?" Sam asked, his eyes never leaving Josh's as he wrapped his trembling fingers around his cock once again. He was so hard it was almost painful.

"It. You know." Josh waved his hand around and blushed to the roots of his hair.

"Josh. Are you telling me I need to come?"

"Uh yeah."

"And that you want to watch me fist myself?" Sam asked as he did exactly that.

Josh heart was pounding and his mouth was an arid desert as he nodded.

He watched as Sam's hips bucked, rising reflexively off the bed, as a bead of creamy whiteness swelled out onto his flat stomach. He watched, and then suddenly as Sam clutched at the bed sheets he was moving. Watching wasn't enough.

There were two hands kneading. Two hands clutching. There was friction, and the sweet smell of sweat mingling with the faint smell of Sam's shampoo. Josh buried his face in the nape of Sam's neck and held the younger man as he shuddered. Sam came to the feel of hot wetness spurting onto his belly and arms clutching him close. He came to the sound of a low voice as it groaned his name brokenly. He came to the feel of Josh's weight pushing him into the mattress. In the arms of his lover, he came and reality surpassed his dreams.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Written back in 2005, when this author was far younger and more naive. Sugary enough to rot your teeth.


End file.
